Today was the middle day of the three consecutively warm sunny days that tantalised us with the notion that Spring had truly arrived, and judging by the activity here today it had a lot of our wildlife fooled too. The sky was clear and that almost-unbelievable shade of deep blue, the birds were singing and best of all, it was warm!

WOODLAND PATH

A few metres along the Woodland Path of my patch is an untidy-looking stretch, divided by the narrow path, where missing trees have opened up the canopy, letting in the light and warmth of the sun. Somewhat mysteriously, it holds great allure for diverse species of insects, some of which at certain times can be found here in surprising numbers. At the right time on the right day, ten minutes spent in this ‘hotspot’ can be as productive as two hours spent ranging over the rest of the site.

11:44 Today I was here at the right time to see a surprising amount of insects. Most prolific were hoverflies in all shapes and sizes from big and bulky to teeny-tiny and dainty.

Eristalis sp hoverfly

Syrphus sp.

There were few flowers here for nectaring upon, so that wasn’t the attraction for the majority of the hoverflies; I caught just one on the tiny flowers of Dog’s mercury. There were dozens of this small black and yellow striped species here, all very fresh and shiny and mostly basking on the sun-warmed leaves of brambles and nettles.

One side of the ‘hotspot’ is open to sunlight, clear of trees but sheltered by those standing behind it and by large shrubs of laurel and holly on either side. A large tangle of bramble fills the gap in the vegetation and is the only barrier between you and the Expressway below at the bottom of an almost-vertical slope. (Only joking, there’d be plenty of trees to stop you if you fell!) On the other side is a large patch of nettles, the aforementioned Dog’s mercury, more bramble and a pretty patch of periwinkle, all growing through a ground-covering of ivy.

Periwinkle

Dog’s Mercury

A lone Tree bumblebee flew in, visited a couple of the periwinkle flowers then stopped to bask on a last-year’s half-eaten bramble leaf. I think it was a male (no pollen baskets) and was looking a bit the worse for wear. He seemed to have a burden of mites and I wondered if exposing them to warm sun might dislodge them. I’ve seen birds do that.

A smaller bee caught my eye as it came to rest on an ivy leaf. I didn’t realise what it was until I saw my photograph, then was excited to see it was a Hairy-footed Flower Bee, this one a male and my first record of this species here.

Hairy-footed Flower Bee – Anthophora plumipes (male)

Hairy-footed Flower Bee (m)-Anthophora plumipes

A species common and widespread in much of England and Wales, especially in towns, cities and villages. Often nests in the soft mortar and exposed cob of old walls, but occasionally will nest in the ground, preferring bare compacted clay soils. Flies from late February to mid-June, and is particularly partial to Lungwort (Pulmonaria) flowers.

Males and females look very different from one another: the female resembles a small, black bumblebee with orange-red hairs on the hind leg and a rapid-darting flight; she’ll often approach a flower with her long tongue extended. Males are mostly brown with a dark tail (fresh specimens are gingery). Cream markings on face distinguish it from all bumblebees.They are often among the first bees of the year to emerge and often hover in front of flowers and when pursuing females.

Another little bee came to rest on a nettle leaf, this one I recognised as an Ashy mining bee and another male.

Ashy mining bee – Andrena cineraria (male)

Ashy mining bee (m)-Andrena cineraria

A distinctive and obvious spring-flying solitary bee. Females are black, and have two broad ashy-grey hairbands across the thorax. Males emerge well before the females. They look similar, but their thorax is entirely covered with less dense grey hairs, and there’s a pronounced tuft of white hairs on the lower face. Species has a single flight period each year from early April until early June. Nests are constructed in the ground; entrances are surrounded by a volcano-like mound of excavated spoil; often in dense aggregations in lawns, flower beds, mown banks and in field margins.

And where there are mining bees there are those who would prey upon them….. Bee-flies: quirkily-cute in appearance but not good to know if you’re a hard-working mining bee; they’ll spy out your nest-hole and craftily kick their eggs inside with those long legs, then later their hatched larvae will feast on yours.

Bee-fly-Bombilius major

Wasps were out on the prowl too; I didn’t get a clear enough image to tell if this was a German or Common Wasp – the latter have a distinctive anchor mark on their face; this image is a bit fuzzy.

12:07 I could have lingered longer, but birds were singing, I’d been serenaded by a Song thrush and a Robin as I stood watching insects, Blue tits twittered on all sides and I was keen to see what else was happening.

Bluebells are beginning to flower and offer nectar to those that can reach it, there’s also Greater Stitchwort and lots of Dog Violets. A male Orange-tip butterfly raced past me over the bluebells and through the trees, clearly on the trail of a female and not stopping for an instant.

Greater Stitchwort – Stellaria holostea

There are masses of glorious glossy golden yellow lesser celandines shining in the sunlight too.

I stopped to admire the celandines lining a section of the path and not at all concerned by my presence, a Blue tit perched above me and began to sing.

Beneath him dozens of shiny new flies arrived to bask on soft sun-warmed new bramble leaves.

There’s one special spot I know where Wood Anemones light up the woodland floor like fallen stars, turning their faces to the sun

and another where those of the shamrock-leaved Wood sorrel shyly hide theirs.

Over the boundary fence, the formidable thorny boundary hedge of gorse and blackthorn is softened now with their fragrant gold and white blossoms.

I heard a bird singing, a short loud burst of notes that I thought at first was a Wren, but it wasn’t quite right. I’d forgotten that another tiny bird, the Goldcrest also has a disproportionately loud song, remembering when he broke cover and flitted about in shrubbery in front of me. He wasn’t going to oblige me with a photograph, much too busy! So I stood gazing upwards for a while – you can’t get too much beautiful blue sky…

… or pretty blossom, can you?

WOODLAND TRAIL

12:58 There’s another hotspot around the junction of my Woodland Path with the reserve’s Woodland Trail, this one for birds. Here there is a territory of both Blackcap and Chiffchaff so there is the possibility of hearing if not seeing both species here. Today I was lucky; I heard the Blackcap’s song as I approached and walking slowly and as quietly as I was able I spotted him. He continued to sing but moved restlessly through the branches as I got nearer then flew off across the other side of the track.

While he sang from behind foliage over there I watched a pretty female Tawny mining bee feast on Blackthorn blossom.

Then the Blackcap came back to where he’d started, so I think perhaps his red-headed mate may be on their nest somewhere close by.

This gorgeous gorse is below his singing tree. It would make a safe place to nest and the flowers would attract insects for dinner.

I had heard a Chiffchaff singing nearby too but was pleasantly surprised when he appeared, continuing his song while flitting about amongst the twiggy branches searching for insects.

13:21 Further along the trail I spotted a flutter of orange – a lovely fresh Comma butterfly basking on dry leaves at the edge of the path. As I watched it moved, (look away now if you’re squeamish) onto a thankfully dryish dog poo deposit. I had to take the picture as it nicely presented its underside showing off the distinctive white mark for which it is named.

The disturbed ground of the pathsides supports some of the ‘weedier’ wildflowers like dandelions which provide important nectar when there’s not much else in flower.

You’d be very unlucky not to hear and see a Robin singing along here, there seems to be one at regularly spaced intervals. They sit and watch out over the track then dart out to pounce on any potential prey they may spot. This one had been singing but stopped to watch me.

I waited to see if he’d start singing again and was distracted by a bird whistling loudly. I scanned around searching for whatever was making the sound, one I didn’t recognise at all but that sounded to be being made by quite a large bird. After a few minutes the whistler appeared and to my amusement turned out to be …. a Great Tit! Of course it was, one of the basics of birdsong recognition is ‘when you don’t recognise it or haven’t heard it before, chances are it’ll be a Great Tit’; they have an incredible repertoire of sounds to call upon. I was thankful to him for keeping me in that spot though, as this gorgeous Greater Spotted Woodpecker flew onto a tree trunk literally right in front of me.

The Woodpecker stayed there, keeping a watchful eye on me. This bird is a female and is holding something small in her beak, so I imagine she has a nest nearby and was unwilling to reveal it. I moved away quickly, thanking her for the photo opportunity as I did.

Great Spotted Woodpeckers are about the same size as Starlings. Their plumage denotes their age and sex. Juvenile birds have red foreheads that are replaced by black as they moult in the autumn. Adult males then have a red nape while females have no red on their head at all.

The Lesser Celandines have been late flowering this Spring but are glorious now and more prolific than I’ve seen them before. It’s not just the flowers that are prolific, so too were hoverflies and Bee-flies seemed to be everywhere.

Approaching the entrance to the meadow another Robin, which looks as though it is singing, but was actually ‘ticking me off’, let me know it didn’t appreciate my disturbing it.

THE UPPER MEADOW (ADDER’S FIELD)

The grass of the meadow was cut back hard last autumn and so far there’s not much happening there yet, but the grass is beginning to grow and the cowslips are starting to come out. They’ll be later on the more exposed ‘downland’ side of the hill.

Another Bee-fly settled on an exposed rock in the pathway, fluttering its wings rapidly and making flicking movements with its legs as they do when depositing their eggs, but there was no sign of a mining bee nest anywhere near, so not sure what it was doing.

Summer Rainfall Prediction:

If oak is out before the ash, there’ll be a splash ; if ash is out before the oak there’ll be a soak…

Keep the brollies handy, looks like ash is furthest on so far….!

Wriggling across the still-damp ground on the way to the Summit Trail was an earthworm. Double jeopardy came to mind – exposure to warm sunshine and hungry birds; foolish worm.

Last year I noticed spots along the trail here where Mining Bees were making nests. having seen a few about today I kept an eye out for more signs of their activity and spotted these little ‘volcanoes’, evidence of their presence. I waited a while but no bees showed, so I don’t know which species had made them, but I think maybe Tawny Mining Bees.

THE SUMMIT

It was cooler and breezier up here. I walked carefully, hoping there may be Small Tortoiseshell butterflies basking on the bare earth of the path, but not today, although I did see two busily chasing one another at speed as they disappeared over the edge of the cliff.

The mountains and the distant Conwy valley were veiled by a misty haze.

The blackthorn is smothered with blossom and looking beautiful. It will be interesting to see how much of it gets pollinated and develops as fruit this autumn. Sloe gin comes to mind.

Blackthorn – Prunus spinosa

The path back down to the Woodland Trail felt almost bridal with falling petals showering down onto the ground like confetti. A pretty way to end this account of a lovely walk.

Two days ago I had boarded a train at Colwyn Bay in sunshine to arrive in Bristol four hours later in pouring rain. In these Isles we expect April Showers, but to time with my visit here to the South-West rain had been predicted for no less than 11 days straight! For the past two days the weather had done its best to fulfil that prediction, then lo and behold, this morning it gave us a reprieve and blessed the morning of the first day of this new month with welcome sunshine. Quick to take advantage of the opportunity to escape the confines of the house, my son and daughter-in-law bundled their respective visiting mothers and two daughters into the car and drove us all to Eastville Park for some fresh air and exercise before the rain swept back in.

River Frome looking downstream

We approached the Park along Broom Hill, parking at the side of the road just before the turning signposted to Snuff Mills. Leaving the car we crossed the road bridge over the River Frome, then after a short way turned right onto the path alongside the river, which is a section of the Frome Valley Walk. (The entire walk is 18 miles long and follows the river from the River Avon in the centre of Bristol to the Cotswold
Hills in South Gloucestershire.)

WICKHAM GLEN

This initial part of our walk follows the river through Wickham Glen; there is woodland on the far bank and on the path side it passes by Wickham Allotments. Following the recent heavy rain the river was full, and its fast flowing waters muddy brown. The path was wet and stickily muddy in places, but the sun was shining, there was fresh new greenery and birds were singing; the perfect Spring morning. Against the far bank a Mallard Drake dabbled next to a piece of disintegrating black plastic that looked like the remains of planting pots, possibly blown there from the nearby allotments.

An Alder tree stretched branches bearing cones and catkins out over the river.

Alder – Alnus glutinosa

To continue along the Frome Valley Walkway from here you would follow the signpost in the direction of Frenchay and Snuff Mills. We were heading for Eastville Park though, so turned right to cross the historic Wickham Bridge, a lovely medieval stone bridge which is Bristol’s oldest bridge and reputedly used by Oliver Cromwell, It is now Grade 11 listed.

Wickham Bridge, looking downstream

River Frome flowing downstream from Wickham Bridge

The river falls dramatically, more than 50 feet, between Frenchay Bridge and Eastville Park which made it perfect for operating water mills. There were once six mills along this stretch of the Frome Valley, most of them working as corn mills. Now all that remains as evidence of their presence are the weirs.

River Frome looking upstream from Wickham Bridge

eastville park

Eastville Park is a large Public Park that extends over some 70 acres of land, and is located just to the east of the M32. The land was originally agricultural land of the Heath House Estate owned by Sir John Greville Smyth of Ashton Court and was purchased from him by the Council for £30,000 in 1889 in order to provide a ‘People’s Park’ – a green space for those living in St Philips and the eastern suburbs of the city, where social and environmental conditions were poor.

Creating the Park was a huge undertaking begun in 1889 and taking around five years till 1894, to complete. Existing hedges were taken out, boundary walls repaired, paths laid out and a hundred seats installed. Wisely, existing mature trees were retained and walkways were lined with further plantings of limes, horse chestnuts and fast-growing London planes. Interestingly, the grass areas were managed by a mixture of sheep grazing and mowing, a common practise at that time that is still used today in some Nature Reserves.

Twisted Hazel

A narrow footbridge crosses over water

then leads past the impressive Colston Weir. There have been recent reports of an Otter being sighted here.

Colston Weir

Not a pleasant thought in such a beautiful place, but this drain cover reminds that the Frome Valley Sewer follows closely alongside the river before finally ending at the Bristol Sewage treatment works at Avonmouth.

A pleasanter sight was a clump of White Deadnettle, although it had clearly taking a bit of a battering as its petals were torn and its leaves mud-spattered. Before the flowers appear the plant looks a little like the Common Nettle, but a closer look shows there are no stinging hairs hence the ‘dead nettle’ in the name. The lack of sting is also thought to have brought the plant’s other common name of White Archangel.

White Deadnettle, White Archangel – Lamium album

We heard a Wren and watched it as it flitted around in vegetation very close to the water. Another Alder tree gave me the opportunity to get a closer look. The tree’s flowers are on catkins which appear between February and April. Alder is monoecious, that is both male and female flowers are found on the same tree. Male catkins are yellow and pendulous, measuring 2–6cm. Female catkins are green and oval-shaped, and grouped in numbers of three to eight on each stalk. Once pollinated by wind, the female catkins gradually become woody and appear as tiny, cone-like fruits in winter. They open up to release seeds, which are dispersed by both wind and water. The small brown cones stay on the tree all year round.

THE LAKE

The lake was added as a feature a few years after the Park was opened. It was dug out in 1908 and 1909 from an existing water meadow with labour provided by ‘unemployed applicants’, under the Distress Committee’s Labour Bureau. It was constructed to a Serpentine plan, a design made popular by the famous landscape gardener, Capability Brown. The intrigue of its shape is such that wherever you stand on its edge, you can’t see the lake completely; there is always some part snaking out of view. Nowadays it is considered to be one of the best public park lakes in the country.

The lake is not just attractive for people to look at, it’s presence also draws in a good variety of species of birds. First to attract attention was a flock of noisy Corvids that flew into the trees to left of the lake.

At first I wondered if they might be Rooks as there were a good number of them, but a closer look made them Carrion Crows, maybe juvenile, non-breeding birds.

There’s a densely planted small island in the centre of the widest part of the lake, and as we passed a little brown bird darting in and out from a tree branch reaching over the water caught my attention. Clearly a warbler, it was either a Chiffchaff or a Willow Warbler, most likely the former, but either way my first sighting so far this year.

If I hadn’t zoomed in on the warbler I may have missed a rare treat, despite his jewel-bright colours– a Kingfisher! It was quite a distance away and was sitting perfectly still on the branch of a willow tree, intently studying the water below.

What a beautiful bird!

After a moment or two it changed position, moving towards the end of the branch to scan the water immediately below, his long dagger-like beak pointing down, preparing to dive.

It dived so fast I missed it! I caught the splash as it entered the water, then a split second later it was back up on a branch with a sizeable fish clamped in its beak. It sat for a few seconds more, jiggling the fish a little to secure its grip, but it clearly wasn’t going to eat it there and then: Kingfishers always consume fish head-first. Perhaps it intended to enjoy its meal somewhere less public, or maybe it had a mate that needed feeding; the birds’ first clutch of 6-7 eggs is usually laid late in March or early in April.
Either way it took off carrying its prize in the direction of the river.

KINGFISHER – Alcedo atthis

UK conservation status:Amber – because of their unfavourable conservation status in Europe. They are vulnerable to hard winters and habitat degradation through pollution or unsympathetic management of watercourses.

Widespread throughout central and southern England, but less common further north,Kingfishers are small but spectacular and unmistakable birds mostly found close to slow moving or still water such as lakes, canals and rivers in lowland areas. They fly fast and low over water, hunting fish from riverside perches.

In total contrast, in plain black and white and far more common, my next spot was a Coot.

Coot – Fulica atra

Then a preening Canada Goose spied through tree branches with bursting buds.

Further down the lakeside someone had scattered some grain on the paving, attracting the attention of some hungry birds. Two more Canada Geese raced in

Canada goose-Branta canadensis

A Crow rushed past a female Mallard and a Swan

to join a group of his peers that were already tucking in.

What would a Park be without a flock of Pigeons? A male Mallard paddled in to see what they had.

He turned and joined his mate and they clearly decided there was nothing in it for them so set off to dabble elsewhere, passing a juvenile Mute Swan on its way in.

Mute Swans are, perhaps surprisingly, also Amber listed as birds of conservation concern. According to the RSPB “The population in the UK has increased recently, perhaps due to better protection of this species. The problem of lead poisoning on lowland rivers has also largely been solved by a ban on the sale of lead fishing weights.”

Mute swan – Cygnus olor

A late-coming Moorhen paddles in rapidly creating an impressive wake for such a small bird. Cousins of the Coots, Moorhens are smaller and are a little more colourful with a bright red and yellow beak and long, green legs.

Moorhen – Gallinula chloropus

The list of birds recorded within the Park is impressive:

A beautiful Weeping willow tree cascades down gracefully to touch the surface of the water. Often planted inappropriately, it was nice to see one in the ‘right’ place. I think this one may be a Golden weeping willow, which is so named for its bright yellow twigs.

Weeping willow – Salix alba

We walked around the curve of the bottom of the lake and up along the other side. At the top once more there were more Chiffchaffs darting out after insects, with one obligingly confirming its identity with its distinctive song; a wonderful sound that for me announces that Spring is here.

Chiffchaff – Phylloscopus collybita

Chiffchaff – Phylloscopus collybita

A signpost with a touch of humour that I’d missed on the way to the Park informs that Fishponds is quite nice! No doubt enhanced by the proximity of this lovely green space.

Celandines were one of the few wildflowers I saw blooming.

A view of Colston Weir from its other end.

Leaves of Arum and Wild garlic are well-grown.

Crossing back over the footbridge I noticed copper pipes running along its side, attractively encrusted with lichen and turquoise blue verdigris.

Back in the Glen, Wild garlic extends beneath the trees. Already releasing its pungent aroma, it won’t be long before it’s in flower.

Cow parsley and more Arum leaves form a prettily contrasting patch of leaves.

Crossing the bridge to get back to the car we stopped to look upstream over its side. There’s an interesting piece of winding gear here that probably operates a sluice. I’m always attracted by such pieces of machinery, probably because I had an engineer for a Father who loved to explain how things worked!

I also have a Son with an eye for the quirky – he spotted this random scene of a football and a rugby ball trapped against the stonework of the bridge and forced to play together in the foamy water.

It seems more fitting to finish this post as I started it though, with a view of the Frome, looking upriver this time.

Footnote: The River Frome is sometimes also called Bristol’s Lost River – certainly much of its final length from the M32 and through the city centre is Hidden. The link below is an account of a walk following the Frome Valley Walk:

Since writing the last post this morning I’ve been wondering and reading about chiffchaffs and willow warblers and thought it might be worth nipping back down to Min-y-Don to see if there might be any of those I saw on Friday still hanging around. To my surprise and delight there were little warblers everywhere, almost every tree had at least one amongst its twigs and leaf buds and there were birds darting out after flies all over the place. They are so mobile and active that counting them was not really an option, but there are a good many. That doesn’t make identifying them any easier, but what I will say is that there is definitely a mix of the two species, indisputably so after hearing songs from both this afternoon and the fact that they are still here must indicate that they are all finding plenty to eat.

When I came to look more closely at my photographs I spotted that the one below has a leg ring – anyone recognise it? The tag I mean, not the bird!

Willow warbler between buds of a sycamore. This bird is ringed, anyone recognise it?

Getting views of the birds is not a problem at all, as I said they are all over the place, but getting sight of an individual for more than a second or two is something else. They are not too bothered about people being around, one surprised me by popping up over the wall alongside the river right in front of me: it was chasing after a fly which I saw escaped, more’s the pity as it looked like a mosquito.

I followed the path alongside the river and just the other side of the bend heard a chiffchaff singing very close by. I located it quite easily, on the branch of a tree quite surprisingly low down, but it moved away when it saw me. He didn’t go far though and reappeared on a branch overhanging the path with a good view over the water. He sang a few phrases, then suddenly dashed down to the water and swooped straight back up again with a sizeable fly in his beak.

The chiffchaff with his prize – a good-sized fly

He ate it and sat for a while longer before flying off over the river and the road to trees on the other side.

The chiffchaff after polishing off his meal. He certainly looks well-fed and healthy

I don’t suppose they will be around in these numbers for much longer, but what a joy it has been to see them and I hope they all thrive throughout the rest of the spring and summer wherever they go.

Friday was a beautiful day and during my lunch hour I thought I’d take some photographs of dandelions, daisies and primroses which I wanted for the next blog I intended to write. There is a lovely grassy bank alongside the road I take back to work, which is currently smothered with gold and white wildflowers and just what I wanted, so I stopped alongside and got out of the car. But, as I opened the car door, I heard a chiffchaff calling from somewhere high up in a tree, a sound I have been waiting to hear this spring, so flowers were quickly forgotten and instead I walked down the hill towards the river and the trees of Min-y-Don listening and trying to work out where he was.

(This spot is just a stone’s throw away from the sea and the point at which the little River Colwyn runs into it and the area known as Min-y-Don is a remnant of the old woodland that used once to cover the whole area, so an oasis for resident and birds on migration with water and potential food.)

As I approached the footbridge over the river I spotted two small birds on the water’s edge that were perching briefly on overhanging plant stems then darting out and flitting over the water, clearly chasing after small flying insects. I have watched Chiffchaffs do this many times in Spain, both over water and from the tall palms in our garden there when they were fruiting and attracting insects there. The tiny birds are amazingly agile in the air and watching numbers of them performing their aerobatics was always magical and enormously entertaining. I know they were doing it to feed themselves, but I could never help feeling they were enjoying the chases and taking the opportunity to show off their skills to their companions; surely the amount of energy they put into the pursuits must have burnt off any calorific value they gained from the flies they actually managed to catch?

I digress, I know, but still being able to hear one as well, you can see why Chiffchaffs came to the front of my mind as soon as I saw them.

Chiffchaff, or is it a willow warbler.

I attempted a few photographs of the birds in the very brief intervals they paused from their pursuits, one or two of which came out OK, but the more I looked at them through the long lens, the more I began to question my identification and to think they might actually be Willow Warblers. I think the problem arose from the fact that although I am very familiar with chiffchaffs, I am not so au fait with willow warblers, something I clearly need to sort out.

On the point of take off

I enjoyed watching these two birds for several minutes before they were joined there by the footbridge by another, then another, then another two. I realised then that I must have happened upon a little flock of migrants that were taking the opportunity to ‘fuel up’ before continuing their journeys to their breeding places. I was already more than happy with this encounter with the birds, so when I walked further along the footpath to where it bends around to follow the river’s edge and saw even more, I was delighted. It’s at times like this when you wish you had someone with you to share the experience, so you could stand or walk along in a public place clutching a camera with a long lens and smiling without feeling self-conscious. And so you have someone to confirm or offer alternative suggestions to your identification of tricky warblers. I guess that is why we blog- I would definitely appreciate opinions on this one, especially the first photograph.

A sunlit Willow Warbler. This bird’s front is much paler and ‘cleaner’ and it has pink legs.

Willow warbler perched on stems overhanging the river

This stretch of the river was lit by the sunshine and benefits from having trees closer to its edge as well as plenty of other perching points for the fly-catching warblers. I’m not sure if it was the better light here or just something about the general appearance of the birds, but I was more or less certain straight away that these were not chiffchaffs, so willow warblers then. These two species can be easily confused when based on appearance only, in fact the one diagnostic I remember is to look at the legs, the willow warbler’s are usually, but not always flesh-coloured, while the chiffchaff’s are darker.If only one of them had stopped to sing it would have made things easier, but no. I know mixed flocks of birds do migrate together, but do these two species join up and travel together?

Willow Warbler-Phylloscopus trochilus

Points of difference:

Chiffchaff – Phylloscopus collybita

Less tinged green and yellow than willow warbler; legs & feet always dark. Bill is also dark. The supercillium is drab and there is a distinct crescent under eye. Wings are also shorter than willow warbler’s.

Willow Warbler – Phylloscopus trochilus

The commonest warbler over much of northern Europe. Underparts are tinged yellow, especially in juveniles. Legs may be dark brown to flesh-coloured. Supercillium is fairly prominent and longer and there is a bright lower eye crescent. Wing feathers are longer than those of chiffchaff.

I deliberately haven’s zoomed in on this bird to give more of a sense of scale; these birds are tiny

I spotted my first returned migrant Chiffchaff of this year about three weeks ago, flitting about in low vegetation by the side of the river Colwyn. Since then I have heard the unmistakeable call several times in various places, but didn’t have a good sighting of one until last Thursday in the Fairy Glen. They may not be the most colourful or tuneful of our woodland birds, but their return and the sound of their repetitive and cheerful chiff-chaff is, for many of us, confirmation that spring has truly arrived.

19/4/12 -Chiffchaff singing. The song is unmistakeable, a cheerful repetitive chiff-chaff. Call is a short 'hweet'.

The Chiffchaff, or Common Chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita) is a common and widespread leaf-warbler which breeds in open woodlands throughout northern and temperate Europe and Asia.

April to August – North Wales

Chiffchaffs are insect eaters, so most of the chiffchaffs we see in Britain are migratory, arriving here during late March and April, remaining throughout the spring and summer to breed, then leaving in late August/September to winter in the warmer locations of southern and western Europe, southern Asia and north Africa.

The chiffchaff is a small bird with olive green/brown upperparts, buff/off-white underparts becoming yellowish on the flanks and an off-white supercilium (eye-stripe). The beak is fine, generally dark and legs are always dark-coloured.

Habitat and breeding

The male Chiffchaff returns to his breeding territory two or three weeks before the female and immediately starts singing to establish ownership and attract a female. When a likely female is located, the male shows off his considerable aeronautical techniques, performing a slow butterfly-like flight as part of the courtship ritual. It is considered unlikely that chiffchaff select the same mate more than once, even though males and females return to the same areas each spring; but once a pair-bond has been established, any other females will be driven from the territory.

The birds’ favoured breeding habitat is open woodland with some taller trees and ground cover for nesting purposes. The preferred trees are typically at least 5 metres (16 ft) high and have an undergrowth that is an open, but consisting of a poor to medium somewhat scrubby mix of grasses, bracken, nettles or similar plants.

The construction of the nest is carried out by the female who selects a site on or near the ground that is concealed amongst brambles, nettles or other dense, low-growing vegetation. The outer layers of the nest are constructed from coarse materials such as dried grasses and leaves with inner layers woven of finer materials and finally an insulating layer of feathers. The nest is built in a domed shape with a side entrance and is typically 12.5 centimetres (5 in) high and 11 centimetres (4 in) across.

The male has little involvement in the nesting process, but he becomes highly territorial during the breeding season and will fiercely defend his space against other males. Inquisitive and fearless, the feisty little male has been known to attack even dangerous predators such as the stoat if they approach the nest, as well as large and notorious avian egg-thieves such as magpies and jays.

The chiffchaff is insectivorous, moving restlessly though foliage, constantly flicking the wings and tail, occasionally darting out to take insects on the wing. Its diet consists mainly of flies, along with other small and medium-sized invertebrates. It will take the eggs and larvae of butterflies and moths, particularly those of the Winter Moth.

After breeding has finished, this species abandons its territory, and may join small flocks including other warblers prior to migration. At this time the birds also go through a prolonged and complete moult. A newly fledged juvenile is browner above than the adult, with yellow-white underparts, but moults about 10 weeks after acquiring its first plumage. After moulting, both the adult and the juvenile have brighter and greener upperparts and a paler supercilium.

Etymology

The bird’s common English name is onomatopoeic, derived from its simple and distinctive ‘chiff-chaff’ song. The Welsh common name is very similar, being ‘siff-saff’.

The binomial name, Phylloscopus collybita, is of Greek origin; Phylloscopus comes from phyllon, translating as ‘leaf’ , and skopeo ‘to look at’ or ‘to see’, presumably referring to the fact that the species spends most of their time feeding in trees, where they pick insects from leaves: collybita is a corruption of kollubistes, or ‘money changer’, with the song being likened to the jingling of coins.

September to March – Southern Spain

Although there is an increasing tendency amongst the species to winter in western Europe, well north of the traditional areas, especially in coastal southern England and the mild urban microclimate of London, the majority of chiffchaff breeding in northern Europe migrate to the warmer climes of western and southern Europe, southern Asia and north Africa.

One of the joys of living in the south of Spain is to have the privilege of the company of some of the migratory bird species that breed in the north of the continent at the other end of their journey, during the autumn and winter months. Chiffchaff are one such species, arriving in great numbers from around the middle of September. Many are just passing through on their way to north Africa, pausing in their journey to take advantage of local feeding opportunities, but for others the area is their winter home and they can regularly be spotted in a wide range of habitats from gardens and woodland to reedbeds, scrubland and even on beaches where they are backed by vegetation.

The appearance of newly arrived individuals often varies considerably; some have noticeably more yellow in their colouration, particularly in the underparts, but in general all appear sleek and well-fed.

The behaviour of the birds outside the pressurised breeding season is quite different; in my garden they will readily leave the trees and cover of shrubs, venturing down to pursue insects at ground-level. This is delightful to watch as they skip and flutter across the grass in an almost butterfly-like manner.

November - A particularly 'yellow' chiffchaff on the lawn in my Spanish garden

I have also been entertained by as many as 9 or 10 of the little birds at once that have perched on palm leaves then launched themselves off to pursue insects demonstrating their considerable aeronautical skills. Clouds of gnats are another target for them and they fly at the tightly packed circling insects, hovering in the air to pick them off.

They are keen bathers too, regularly using the bird bath in the garden as well as any available puddles. In shallow water they drench themselves, flicking and fluttering wings and tail, but if the water is too deep for them they flutter delicately across the surface, splashing themselves as best as they can. After their ablutions they sit on a nearby perch to dry themselves and preen meticulously.

30/1/08-Chiffchaff come to the birdbath regularly to drink and to bathe; Sotogrande, Spain

The local reserve, where an extensive reedbed backs the beach, is always popular with chiffchaff . Many roost here amongst the reeds and use the area as a ‘staging post’ before making the relatively short flight across to North Africa. It is impossible to tell whether the birds you see regularly are on passage or here for the winter, but the spots I see them in are pretty consistent.

1/1/08 - Chiffchaff on Sotogrande beach, perched on debris washed up by a winter storm

Migration

The flow of migration is spread throughout the autumn months as birds in no particular hurry take feeding opportunities as and when they are presented along their route. Many of the birds leaving northern Europe at the end of August or beginning of September may not make the crossing to North Africa until November. Chiffchaff are amongst the most numerous birds to be caught and logged by ringers working at the bird observatory on the Rock of Gibraltar. The majority of those crossing the Strait to Africa on this route will have originated in Scandinavia, with maybe a few from Great Britain.

311011-A newly-ringed chiffchaff about to be released-bird observatory, Gibraltar

The return migration begins as early as January – the following is an extract from the gonhs recent records:

18 Jan: After a few days with some heavy rain showers the weather cleared a bit but temperatures had dropped substantially and an influx of Chiffchaffs arrived on the Rock with many birds seen in the Botanic Gardens feeding on the nectar of flowering Aloes.

Iberian Chiffchaff

It would be remiss of me not to mention that Spain is also home to a similar but distinct species of chiffchaff, the Iberian Chiffchaff. This species breeds in Iberia and has been noted quite frequently on our outings with the Gibraltar Ornithological & Natural History Society, although most of us would confess that recognition is mostly on song and known breeding areas.

P. ibericus, the Iberian Chiffchaff is brighter, greener on the rump, and yellower below than P. collybita and has a tit-tit-tit-tswee-tswee song. This species is found in Portugal and Spain, west of a line stretching roughly from the western Pyrenees via the mountains of central Spain to the Mediterranean; the Iberian and Common Chiffchaffs co-occur in a narrow band along this line. Apart from the northernmost section, the precise course of the contact zone is not well documented. A long-distance migrant, this species winters in western Africa. It differs from P. c. collybita in vocalisations,external morphology, and mtDNA sequences. There is hybridization in the contact zone, almost always between male P. ibericus and female P. c. collybita, and hybrids apparently show much decreased fitness; hybrid females appear to be sterile according to Haldane’s Rule.Regarding the latter aspect, it is interesting to note that the Iberian Chiffchaff apparently is the oldest lineage of chiffchaffs and quite distinct from the Common Chiffchaff.(extract from wikipedia)

This is a wonderful time of year to see numbers of birds here in southern Spain,when many migrants from northern and western Europe arrive to remain for the winter, or stay for a short while to take advantage of available food supplies before continuing their journeys across to north or sub-Saharan Africa.

On my return from the UK, the first bird I looked out for in my garden was a Black Redstart. This species is resident in Spain, breeding in the mountains then migrating in large numbers during the autumn, when they head here to the southern coastal areas of the country. Many will stay until March, while many more cross the Straits of Gibraltar to winter in Africa.

Black Redstart - Phoenicurus ochruros (Spanish-Colirrojo Tizon). This is either a female or possibly a juvenile, perched on a sun-lounger.

The male Black Redstart is a very striking bird

This will be our ninth winter of living in this house and each year a Black Redstart has arrived to stake a claim to a territory that includes our garden. It is always a bird that resembles the one above, so either a female or a young bird, it’s tricky to tell the difference. I would like to believe that it is the same bird that returns each year, but that may be construed as sentimental and not at all realistic or scientific. I am told that this may simply be recognised as ‘a territory’. Anyway, I look forward to the arrival of the delightful little bird. They are always quite a few to be seen throughout the area, some will stay around where there are buildings, others in cultivated areas, on golf courses and even on the edges of beaches.

For the past two or three years, I haven’t got to see ‘my’ Black Redstart as often as I used to, as we have also had resident Robins. The two species are closely related and the Robins, that are resident locally all year round, stake out the territory earlier on and defend it vigilantly. So, as soon as the Black Redstart puts its beak over the garden wall, the Robin is there to chase it away.

Robin-Erithacus rubecula (Spanish - Petirrojo)

It is interesting to see Robins as migrant birds, and this time of year sees the arrival of birds from the more northern parts of Europe swelling the resident numbers, with numbers of birds peaking in October-November. As with the Black Redstarts, some will stay here to overwinter while others will travel on to Africa.

Blackbirds are amongst the most numerous bird species resident locally, but at this time of year their presence is especially noticeable. Juveniles disperse in August and September and ‘foreign’ birds arrive or pass through the locality, with numbers peaking in mid-October. Numbers of Blackbirds are attracted to our garden now by the masses of tiny berries produced by the Florida palms. As they are present all year, it is usually impossible to spot ‘incomers’ other than by territorial behaviour, when those I assume to be resident birds chase others away. The Blackbird in my photograph made it easy to spot that it was an ‘incomer’ as he was marked with white feathers. I would definitely have noticed him earlier in the year.

Chiffchaff-Phylloscopus collybita (Spanish-Mosquitero Comun)

There are a lot of tiny Chiffchaff around presently, at one time in the garden early this afternoon I counted ten and there could well have been more. A few will stay here for the winter, most will move on. Chiffchaffs are delightful little birds and very entertaining to watch as they flit and flutter through trees and shrubs searching leaves for insects. On sunny days, when there are clouds of flies or gnats about they perch on the tips of twigs and palm leaves, then dive down and chase the insects, balletically turning and twisting in the air.

It never ceases to amaze me that such tiny birds impart on these long journeys, especially those that are no more than a few months old, and marvel at their innate knowledge of where to go and how to get there and back again. And we call people ‘bird-brained’ as an insult!